since your poor mother died, I say this, Audrey--when a gentleman
goes to Australia, he has his reasons. And when he stays in
Australia fifteen years, as Mr. Mark says, and as I know for
myself for five years, he has his reasons. And a respectably
brought-up girl doesn't ask what reasons."

"Got into trouble, I suppose," said Audrey carelessly. "They
were saying at breakfast he'd been a wild one. Debts. I'm glad
Joe isn't like that. He's got fifteen pounds in the post-office
savings' bank. Did I tell you?"

But there was not to be any more talk of Joe Turner that
afternoon. The ringing of a bell brought Audrey to her feet--no
longer Audrey, but now Stevens. She arranged her cap in front of
the glass.

"There, that's the front door," she said. "That's him. 'Show
him into the office,' said Mr. Mark. I suppose he doesn't want
the other ladies and gentlemen to see him. Well, they're all out
at their golf, anyhow--Wonder if he's going to stay--P'raps he's
brought back a lot of gold from Australia--I might hear something
about Australia, because if anybody can get gold there, then I
don't say but what Joe and I--"

"Now, now, get on, Audrey."

"Just going, darling." She went out.

To anyone who had just walked down the drive in the August sun,
the open door of the Red House revealed a delightfully inviting